Free The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants by Ann Brashares Page A

to her.
    She laughed. “I haven't run in months.” And with that, she accelerated to a near sprint. The rest of the group had fallen far behind. She was curious to see whether Eric would stick to his preset pace or abandon it to keep up with her.
    She felt his elbow brush hers. She smiled. “Race ya.”
    They sprinted the half mile up the beach. There was so much adrenaline filling Bridget's veins, she could have flown the distance.
    She collapsed on the sand. He collapsed too. “I think we set a record,” he said.
    She spread out her arms, happy. “I've always been goal oriented.” Bridget rolled around in the sand until she was covered like a sugar doughnut. He watched her, laughing.
    The rest of the group would catch up in a couple of minutes. She stood and kicked off her shoes and socks. She looked right at him when she pulled off her shorts, revealing her bikini bottoms; then she yanked the elastic out of her hair. Yellow clumps stuck to her sweaty shoulders and back.
    He looked away.
    â€œLet's swim,” she said.
    His face was serious now. He didn't move.
    She didn't wait for him. She waded in several yards and then dove under. When she came up, she saw that he had stripped off his soaked T-shirt. She didn't pretend not to stare.
    Eric dove in after her, just as she prayed he would. He swam past where she was and surfaced a few yards away.
    Bridget raised her arms in the air for no reason. She jumped up and down in the water, unable to contain her energy. “This is the best place in the world.”
    He laughed again, his serious face gone.
    She dove under the surface and plummeted to the sandy bottom. Slowly she passed his feet. Without thinking, she reached out her hand and touched his ankle with her finger, light as a triggerfish.

W hen Lena arrived in the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, only her grandfather was awake. “Kalemera,” she said.
    He nodded and blinked in acknowledgment. She sat down across from him at the small kitchen table. He pointed the box of Rice Krispies at her. She happened to love Rice Krispies.
“Efcharisto,”
she thanked him, about reaching the limits of her Greek. Grandma had left out bowls and spoons. Bapi handed her the milk.
    They chewed. She looked at him, and he looked into his bowl. Was he annoyed because she was there? Did he like to eat breakfast alone? Was he very disappointed that she couldn't speak Greek?
    He poured himself another bowl of cereal. Bapi was kind of wiry, but he clearly had a good appetite. It was funny. As she looked at Bapi, she recognized some of her own features. The nose, for instance. Almost everybody else in the family had the famous Kaligaris nose—her father, her aunt, Effie. The big, prominent nose gave character to all who wore it. Of course, her mother had a different nose—a Patmos nose—but even that was sufficiently distinctive.
    Lena's nose was small, delicate, characterless. She'd always wondered where she'd gotten it, but now she saw it right in the middle of Bapi's face. Did that mean that
she
had the true Kaligaris nose? Since she was small she'd secretly wished she had the big family nose. Now that she saw where she got hers, she liked it a little better.
    She made herself stop looking at Bapi. She was no doubt making him uncomfortable. She should definitely say something. It was probably very awkward for her to sit here and not be saying anything.
    â€œI'm going to make a painting this morning,” she said. She gestured like she was painting.
    He seemed to snap out of his cereal reverie. She knew that feeling so well. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. Whether he understood a word, she couldn't tell.
    â€œI was thinking I'd walk down to Ammoudi. Are there stairs all the way down?”
    Bapi considered and nodded. She could tell he wanted to get back to his contemplation of the cereal box. Was he tired of her? Was she annoying him?
    â€œOkay, well, I'll see you